


abendrot

by AgentCheshire



Category: Dangan Ronpa, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVE NOT COMPLETED THE GAME OK, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Super Dangan Ronpa 2 Spoilers, flashbacks and flashfronts lolol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-06
Updated: 2013-12-06
Packaged: 2018-01-03 15:32:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1072134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentCheshire/pseuds/AgentCheshire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(n.) The color of the sky while the sun is setting. </p><p>She opens her eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	abendrot

**Author's Note:**

> Originally I was going to make this a Komahina fic, but even though I love them as a couple very much, I'd have to consider Pekoyama's and Kuzuryuu's as my all time favorite. Their relationship was very well thought out and just thinking about it makes me want to cry and feel all warm inside.

He hasn't shed a tear since he woke up, staring at the cracked ceiling above him. For a moment, Fuyuhiko thinks about nothing and then he hears a stifled groan which brings him back to more pressing concerns. With painstaking effort, he draws his upper body upward and stares at one of the beds opposite to him, not really comprehending what he's looking at.

"So it was just an insane nightmare then," Kazuichi says, pulling his knees up to his chin and staring at Sonia's bed. Like a cat, she stretches gracefully and positioning herself perfectly she sits up, looking camera ready.

Hajime shakes his head. Fuyuhiko can't help but shiver. His friend looks nothing like he did on the island; his hair is long, dark, and luxuriant and he can't tell if his eyes are just brown or a deep, matured red. "It wasn't just a nightmare." He gestures to the ones who have not woken up. "They're not awake." For one terrible moment, Fuyuhiko thinks Hajime has succumbed to despair. There is a sharp pang of loneliness in those reddish muddled eyes that looks like it'll send him into madness.

But then the moment passes a moment later when Akane shifts, cracking her neck as she pulls it to one side. "They will be." Her voice so strong, that it sounds like she's trying to convince herself more than anyone else. Fuyuhiko's eyes travel downward, to her hand that clenches the pristine, sterile sheets and then unclenches it as if in surprise. Fuyuhiko knows what she was clenching for; the Mecha-Nidai wasn't real, so of course it wouldn't have come back. Akane folds her arms over her chest, an act of stubborn defiance, before she looks away, refusing to meet anybody's eyes.

Fuyuhiko wants to say something, a word of comfort or encouragement, but his throat is constricted making it impossible for any sort of word to escape. Instead, his eyes flit back to where they were originally, to that bed opposite of him and his heart beats a slow, mournful chant that is more painful than a funeral march. She's immobile of course, her silver hair like stars, winking at him. 

He swallows. It's torture. He can't look at her wrapped up in her own thoughts, in another world.

He doesn't know what to do at this point. She's fading fast, and he doesn't know what to think except for the memories he has of her.

* * *

  _He has just turned five and has recieved his birthday present from his father. There was a cake as tall as him, and boys from his elite daycare. They all have just finished a game of hide 'n' seek and Peko, as usual, won. He hates how she seems to be better at him than everything. For her part, she thinks he's quite dull and spoiled. But the Kuzuryuu clan had taken her in. "She's an act of charity," his uncle had said, the first time Fuyuhiko had mistakenly called her his sister. "She is not one of us."_

 _Right now, his father stands in front of him. Fuyuhiko's father does not get down on his knees, so Fuhuyiko has to crane his neck up to look at the underside of his chin. The guests have left and there is still a little bit of yellow cake spilled on the floor. He does not like what he's just heard. "From now on, Fuyuhiko, Peko will be your servant and protector." Fuhuyiko wrinkles his nose at the red-eyed girl who is bouncing excitedly on the balls of her heels, completely oblivious to the conversation going on between father and son. She's boring, he thinks. And most importantly, she's a_ girl _. What would the other boys think having a_ girl  _to protect him? The stories that his mother used to read to him are about male heroes who save princesses from the dragon._

_Not that Peko is a princess. She's not pretty. She looks ugly with that old woman's hair and those blood red eyes. Still, Fuyuhiko sometimes wonders how it would feel to protect her, to make her feel as if he's far more powerful. He knows he never wanted it to be the other way around._

_He doesn't dare disobey his father, though. He watchs as his father walks over to Peko and command her to clean up the mess. Then his father bends at the waist to whisper something into Peko's ear, something that makes her mouth tighten in confusion. Peko was smart not to disobey. From time to time, her eyes drifted to Fuyuhiko as if wondering. It makes Fuyuhiko's stomach roil to see her childish little fingers pick up the bits of spilled cake. As if she's some commoner. As if she's better than him somehow. He hates that feeling of being inferior. All his life, he's never been good enough._

_"Don't do that," he tells her. "The other servants will."_

_Fuyuhiko's stubborn eyes turn to him. "You're not the boss of me."_

_His stomach is in knots, and the knots writhe a torturous dance. He takes a deep breath. Anything to stop her from picking things up off the floor. "Yes I am. Didn't my father tell you? You're my birthday present."_

_Peko's face tilts to the side as she considers this. "Birthday present? Like a toy, Fuyu?"_

_"Toys do not serve and protect." He practically sneers the word out, his anger burning hotter than the way her eyes cut into his. Deep down, he knows where the anger is coming from._

_"Then what am I to you?"_

_The answer comes to his lips almost readily, greedily, the one his father has placed there, and suddenly the anger is gone. He doesn't dare speak it aloud and lets the question hang, shamefully and unfulfilled._

* * *

It's been two days since Fuyuhiko has awakened. Two times, he's watched a real sunrise, felt the real shoreline of the ocean lap a salty ballad against his feet. The second day is the day that Makoto Naegi, Byakuya Togami and Kyouko Kirigiri take leave. Fuyuhiko doesn't feel comfortable around them, and is visibly relieved when they finally depart on their ship.

The consensus amongst the others was that they were going to stay as long as they could on the island, trying to awaken everybody. Sonia spends most of her days by Gundam's bedside. She holds his hand and talks about all the Japanese shows she's watched from the eighties. Fuyuhiko wonders how Kazuichi stands it, but the engineer stays quietly by her side, hearing her every word. Sometimes he drifts to Ibuki's or Saionji's bedside. Hajime does the same too, but can't seem to tear his eyes away from Chiaki's almost lifeless form, his eyes quiet and subtle. He's since cut his hair so that it resembles the Hinata they all knew. His eyes look browner this way.

For his own part, Fuyuhiko can't stand being with Peko for longer than two minutes, to watch the way her long eyelashes cast prickly shadows against her skin, the way her face carries none of the intensity it once did. He removes her glasses, his fingers brushing against the warmth of her cheek and he thinks he might just die right there, so he leaves for the ocean and thinks.

* * *

_Somewhere between the ages of five and ten, Fuyuhiko can't remember the exact age, Peko calls him Young Master. It irritates Fuyuhiko at first, this whole Young Master business, but he doesn't bother telling her to call him Kuzuryuu-kun, or even better, by his first name. He knows his father would not approve. Besides, there is a small part of him that takes a savage sort of pleasure ordering her about. Peko used to hate being ordered. She would rebel in small ways that oddly amused Fuyuhiko. If he asked for a glass of water, she would give it to him in a small shot glass. If he asked for a towel to dry himself after a bath, she would give him a damp, used one. If he asked her to bring breakfast, she would bring breakfast that contained milk, keenly aware of his intense hatred towards the liquid. Fuyuhiko never complained to his father because to him, it was a secret game they played. It was those times that he really respected her, rather than growing jealous of her drive and need for perfection._

_But she did her job as a protector extremely well. There was only one instance she had slipped up. When Fuyuhiko was ten, he had to double back because he forgot his gym clothes at school. He had told Peko to wait for him outside the school gates, and he had jogged back to the locker rooms to get his equipment. He figured in a short span of five minutes, nothing would happen._

_What he didn't know was that his father had enemies everywhere, and one of them had been waiting for this exact moment. Fuyuhiko had never seen this man, but evidently, the man had seen him. He held a switchblade and held a finger up to his grinning lips. "Your father thinks he can run me dry, and kill my son when I can't pay up, huh? Well, I'll give him something to cry about." The joke was on him, Fuyuhiko thought. Kuzuryuus cared only about their reputation and clan, not the actual fact that Fuyuhiko, heir to the clan, would die. His first reaction was considering crying out for Peko, but something held him back. This was a battle he needed to face himself. He would show his father that he didn't need Peko's help for anything. He was independent._

_He was still thinking about this, when the man rushed at him, blade outstretched. Fuyuhiko tried to dodge it, but the blade somehow slipped upward into his left shoulder. Fuyuhiko cried out at the stabbing pain. The blade had torn a muscle in his shoulder and he was swimming in searing hot pain. He dropped to his knees, his vision fading in and out and blacked out. When he came to, he was at home, his shoulder wrapped in thick bandages. Predictably, Peko was the only one there and she was oddly quiet. He hated that. He hated her silence, hated her very presence. He didn't say thank you._

_From that moment on, she obeyed his every command with flawless precision. His clothes were ironed without a single wrinkle, she served him all foods that did not contain or require an ounce of milk, and even did his homework when he asked._

_They are twelve years old now. Peko's hair has grown out and she is deadly, Fuyuhiko discovers. Her katana is her most prized posession, and she wields it as fluidly and naturally as her own dominant hand. She does her job well, Fuyuhiko's father says without a trace of a smile._

_"_ _Peko," he asks now, tapping his pencil against his study desk in his room. He's irritated because Peko is several inches taller than him and he_ hates _that. The other boys' voices are cracking into something deeper, a sure sign of puberty but it seems like Fuyuhiko's destined to stay a child forever._

_"Yes, Young Master?" Her voice is subdued as usual, which irritates him. "What is it you require?"_

_He doesn't know how to say it, so instead he asks, "What happened to you?"_

_She blinks at the unexpected question. He's never really asked about her wellbeing before. He thought he never had to - she always seemed too perfect to have any sort of problem. Her gaze drops away from him to the window outdoors. The sun is beginning to set. She understands his question perfectly, yet she takes her time to respond. "I grew up," she finally says, in a voice so soft, time itself seems to muffle her tone._

_He wants to tell her not to do that, to stop growing because it means they will drift apart, but he stops when he notices the way the pinkish glow of the sun bathes her poreless skin, the way the dying light seems to turn her eyes into something both softer and fiercer than it used to be. The sun makes her look as if she's blushing. The words die in his throat._

_Sometimes, he can read her silences a lot easier than her sparse choice of words. This time, he cannot read both._

* * *

A week later, Mikan Tsumiki wakes up and apologizes profusely for falling asleep. She does not seem to recall her fever-induced murders and everybody in the room wisely decides not to tell her about the way she was when she fell into despair's clutches. Though Mikan asks how she died, nobody mentions anything and eventually, she gives up trying to remember.

Mikan's awakening draws a faint stirring of hope. Akane, who hasn't smiled since waking up, finally cracks a small one, squeezing Nidai's fingers. "If Mikan can make it, then so can you!" Fuyuhiko hears her whispering fiercely to the muscular man who lays lifeless.

 Mikan comments on how much older Fuyuhiko and Saoinji look. "Y-you're not a child a-anymore, Kuzuryuu-kun," she says, her hands close to her lips, as if she's afraid she might have said something offensive. "You've grown into a... handsome person!" 

The words should have made Fuyuhiko happy; all his life he's abhorred being the small, babyfaced idiot who can never take care of himself. The weakest link who had to rely on others to do his work for him. He had wished he'd been more like his father who made razorsharp decisions, sacrificing his best men as if he held no emotional bond to them, but if anything about the past days trapped in the virtual nightmare taught him anything, it was that people could not just be taken lightly.

One by one, they all begin to wake up from their drowning dreams. Hiyoko Saionji blinks her golden eyes open before making a snide comment on the heat and how strangely sore she felt. "The least you could have done was keep me healthy," she spits out. Even though she looks graceful with an angelic face, she still has a bad temper, Fuyuhiko reflects. Then a small smile creeps to his face. He's not so different from Hiyoko.

Peko's fingers twitch.

* * *

_Sometimes, weeks pass by where Peko does not say anything to him beyond, "Yes, Young Master," or "Good morning, Young Master." Fuyuhiko feels the distance between them even if he sees her every day. They are now fourteen and Peko looks like a young woman. Fuyuhiko still looks like he's ten. He despises the curves she's acquired, the way men spare second looks at her. He hates all of it._

_Peko gets her letter first from Hope's Peak Academy. Fuyuhiko doesn't know about it until he recieves his own letter and he grits his teeth upon reading it. They only want him because he's heir to the biggest gangster business. It leaves him feeling annoyed, but at least, he thinks to himself, at least going to this school will rid him of Peko's presence, a constant reminder of his failures._

_But then his father announces that Peko is coming along because of her impeccable skill with a katana and just like that Fuyuhiko hates her again. And again. He hates the way her face remains the same, the way her voice never wavers, the way she constantly is at his side like a shadow._

_He walks to his room, his feet slamming into the ground far more harder than they should. Peko follows silently, which only fuels the burning hatred within him. It isn't until Peko slides his door shut that he turns to face her, his golden eyes searing into her calm crimson ones._

_"Are you to follow me everywhere, you stupid bitch?"_

_She blinks at his anger, but other than that does not react, making him angrier. "I'm sorry, Young Master. I am your bodyguard. I must follow you wherever you go."_

_Fuyuhiko clenches his teeth. "Yeah, I get that. Perfect Peko Pekoyama, getting into Hope's Peak because you're good at the fuckin' sword." He balls his fists._

_"I do what I can to protect you."_

_He slams his fist against his study desk, the skin of his knuckles ripping open, exploding into pain. He doesn't take notice. "I don't fucking need you. I don't want to be protected." He glowers at her for a moment, the way she is taller than him, the way she makes him feel so emasculated. He realizes why he hates her so much. She is everything he_ ought  _to be. She should be the real heir. The thought slams into him agonizingly hard._

_Then she says it. "I know you don't need me, Young Master, the way you need others. But your father has assigned me to you. I am your tool."_

_The burning anger instantly turns into cold numbness. "Tool?" He stares at her blankly. He doesn't understand, perhaps because he doesn't want to. The ugly truth of her transformation from his friend to something so different._

_She lowers her eyes, as if she cannot meet his eyes anymore. "Yes, Young Master. I cannot be your friend. I cannot bear it. I would rather be just your tool."_

_He swallows. It shouldn't hurt him, a tool shouldn't hurt him, but the simplicity and sincerity of her words drives cleanly into him. She doesn't want to be his friend. His mouth tightens. He thinks about asking her why, but something stops him. He knows after all. He's not worthy of her friendship; he being so dull, and she being so much better. But he's not about to let her have the last word. He turns away from her, to watch the sinking sun. "I suppose we're on the same path then. I can't be your friend either." He swallows the lump in his throat, marveling at how steady his voice is. "So let's do ourselves a favor. Let's pretend we don't know each other at Hope's Peak. We can be rid of each other during the school hours at least."_

_She says nothing for a few minutes._

_Then-_

_"As you wish, Young Master."_

* * *

She opens her eyes as the sun sets. The sky is blood orange, abrendrot, and the others have gone outside to watch it. A few people are still in their beds, comatose - Nagito Komaeda, Chiaki Nanami, and the false Byakuya Togami.

Initially, he's afraid to touch her, but then her eyes begin to focus, and he can't bear it any longer. He grasps her hand with his and she stares at him, confused. "Fuyu...?" She reaches a hand out to touch his face then hesitates, as if realizing that maybe this isn't a dream and she needs to check herself.

If there's anything Fuyuhiko's learned, it's that he can't let things be unsaid. In the instant she hesitates, his other hand shoots out and guides her hand to his cheek, feeling the clamminess of her palm against his skin. She's trembling, but he doesn't know if it's because she's touching him so intimately or due to confusion. "W-what is going on? Why do you look so... old, Young Master?" She thinks for a second, and stares at him horrified. "This isn't the afterlife is it? Did you die too?"

He can't help it, he laughs at her confusion, and wonders why her face is becoming strangely blurry to him. "I'm not dead, Pekoyama-san." Strange how after all these years, he finally addresses her like a normal individual. "And damn it, don't call me Young Master."

He watches her think back to her final moments of death, the way his tears ran freely.  _All I ever needed was_ you _!_

"You're crying, Young... Kuzuryuu-kun." She slides a thumb down his cheek to wipe the wet trail away.

He flushes. Even after all this time, he thinks, he's still a crybaby. Hastily, he pulls away to wipe his tears away. "Yeah," he said, glancing away. "Well, I didn't think I'd see you again."

"That distresses you?" She sits up, wincing at how stiff her limbs are. She studies his face for a long moment and Fuyuhiko can't look at her.

"Damn it, it didn't distress me, Peko. It  _destroyed_ me." He hates saying the words out loud; they sound foreign and unfamiliar and stupid, but he knows it has to be said. "I couldn't bear the thought of you dead. I... I need you." He watches her face go expressionless and adds quickly, "Not like a tool. Never as a tool. And..." he takes a deep breath. "I know you can't be my friend. You said it before we started Hope's Peak. I know you don't like me and I don't blame you. I was a dick to you, and I treated you like a piece of shit. I was just... jealous. Around you, I felt so shitty."

She's quiet again, as if processing his words and trying how best to respond. He hopes she won't say something really stupid, like a string of comforting words that vaguely mean something. He doesn't want to hate her again.

Her hand comes to his chin and pulls his face to meet hers. Her gaze drops to his mouth, and he can see her own mouth curve slightly. "You don't look like a child anymore but this mole is still here. That's how I knew it was really you when I woke up." Her thumb gently grazes it. Her gaze travels up to his again. "You were right, Kuzuryuu-kun. I never wanted to be your friend. I... did once. But that day you were attacked by one of Master's clients, I knew that I had to put my friendship aside to make sure you never died. I couldn't live if you were dead. My life would be meaningless. Friendship made me lazy. I had to hone my skills. Everything I did, I did it for you. Even if you hated me for my skill, that skill was for you."

Fuyuhiko feels his mouth tremble but he doesn't do anything about it. Somewhere, inside his head, he probably knew all along. But he needed to hear her say those words so he could say his own. "Peko, I understand how you feel, but I need you more as a friend than a tool. I was too scared to tell you the words myself because I felt like I had to be my father, but I don't think that's how it works when somebody cares for another. Don't hide your feelings from me. I won't make it an order because I don't want to control you, but I'm asking you."

Peko's eyes tell nothing, but instead her hand drops from his face and already he misses her touch. "What happened while I was dead?" she asked.

"You died," he says simply. He laces his hand into her hand and she doesn't object. "I... I only realized when you died how much I loved you."

He's looking at her steadily when he says this, willing himself not to look away. The sun has long since set, and all that remains is the afterglow of the horizon. It is this light which guides Peko when she closes the gap between them and hesitantly presses her mouth against his and he can't help it anymore; he seizes her against him and kisses her back as hard as he can, not caring that she hasn't showered or brushed her teeth in weeks. He feels the wetness of her lips and he knows she's real and that maybe everything can be okay between them.

When she draws away, she tells him she loves him too, but he doesn't need to hear the words.

He understands her silence well enough.

* * *

_They are three years old and Peko has crawled into his bedroom. She clambers onto his bed without any permission. He knows why. Thunderstorms scare her. He allows her to snuggle with him, and he wraps his arms around her, his chubby fingers laced into her stardust coated hair. He hears her quickening heartbeat and thinks to himself that she's a princess worth keeping._

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback appreciated!


End file.
